


Impressions

by ChickadeeChick



Series: Impressions [1]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:18:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChickadeeChick/pseuds/ChickadeeChick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things heat up in the locker room after the Rome 2009 final.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQzZiw0WAh4

“Hey, Rafa, I am really sorry about that thing on court earlier… that woman really backed us into a corner.  It wasn’t like you really could have said no.”  Novak leaned one shoulder against the lockers as Rafa untied his shoes and peeled off his socks.  
  
“No problema, Nole.  Is fine.  We all know is not really like that.  You no intend being mean.”  Rafa smiled, looking up at Novak.  
  
The Serbian smiled, relieved, and sat down on the bench next to Rafa, leaning forward so as to mirror Rafa’s posture, elbows on his knees.  “Good.  Because I don’t… mean to be mean.  You could do an impression of me sometime, you know?” He nudged Rafa with his shoulder.   
  
“Hmm.” Rafa sat back and tapped his chin with a taped finger, as if thinking hard.  “But what would I do?”  His eyes slid sideways to meet Novak’s, mischief there.  In one fluid movement Rafa turned and lowered himself to his knees in front of Novak, pushing the other man’s knees apart, smile turning into a sly smirk as he shimmied forward and rested his arms on toned thighs.   
  
“Rafa!  Your knees!” Novak’s voice came out like a hiccup as he looked down at the Spaniard.  They were friends, sure, but this… this... this wasn’t something they did.  That playful glint in Rafa’s eyes made all of Nole’s blood run in a hot flood southward.  
  
“No, your knees.  I you, remember?” He grinned, hands working their way up and under white shorts, fingertips grazing the line of underwear.  “Hm, not too accurate though, you only do this in dreams.”  Rafa was looking up at Novak, watching his face carefully.  
  
Novak swallowed hard, mouth sticky-dry.  In dreams?  Oh god, Rafa had dreamed about this?   
  
Rafa removed his hands from Nole’s shorts and took another step forward on his knees, spreading the other man’s legs wantonly wide.  He could feel the bulge under the layers of fabric as he pulled the zipper slowly downwards, all the while his face turned upwards so he could hold Novak’s gaze.  Nole, for his part, could only stare, his hands gripping the edge of the bench so hard his knuckles had turned bright white.   
  
Rafa continued, hands moving under Novak’s shirt to runs over his hips and catch on the waistband of his clothing.  “Up.”  Rafa’s voice was low and heavy and all Nole could do was comply, lifting his hips ever-so-slightly and watching in abject fascination as the Spaniard hand to move back to pull the shorts and underwear over his knees.   
  
It was only when Rafa’s mouth descended onto the erect cock before him that their eyes strayed from one another, Nole’s eyes fluttering closed with a breathy moan.  His hands found their way into the sweat-soaked hair in front of him, clinging to the long strands.  “Jesus, Rafa…”  
  
The Spaniard hummed appreciatively, causing Nole’s hips to buck, but Rafa must have expected that since his throat opened and allowed Nole’s arousal to slide smoothly down.   
  
Novak opened his eyes and looked down.  Rafa’s eyes were closed, brows furrowed a bit in concentration, lips pulled wide, reddened with the friction, cheeks hollowed.  It was just about the hottest thing Nole had ever seen.  
  
It was over quickly, stamina drained by the tennis match that had only ended less than an hour before.  Despite the orgasm-induced heaviness in his limbs, Nole wasted no time in pulling Rafa up and into his lap, his hands moving to frame the tan face.   
  
The kiss was sloppy, Rafa’s hands busy pulling Nole’s shirt up and off while the Serb’s hands were pulling down Rafa’s shorts.  Rafa rocked forward and pressed himself hard to Nole’s chest, sliding with the sweat there, his hands pulling at the short black hair now that the blue shirt was discarded.   
  
A few quick twists of Nole’s hand and Rafa was splattering them both, collapsing to sit on Nole’s lap proper and rest his forehead where pale shoulder met a long neck.   
  
Rafa’s panting was slowing as Nole’s hand curled around the back of his neck.  “Rafa?”  
  
“Si?” Rafa moved so his lips pressed against the neck in front of him causing his new lover’s breath to hitch.  
  
“Can we try this in a bed next time?” Nole pulled Rafa’s head up so he could kiss him softly.  “My knees have to be killing you.”  
  
It took Rafa a moment to process that convoluted statement, but he soon chuckled.  “Si, si.  And next time you can do another impression of me, no?”  He nuzzled Nole’s ear.  “I like your impressions.”  
  
Novak laughed.  “Yours are pretty damn good, too.”


End file.
